Guards scrambled as Connor barked without pause. “Saddle the horses, we ride out!” he shouted. “Me betrothed has been taken!”
Steel rang as swords were grabbed, and the courtyard filled with frantic motion. Connor seized the reins of his horse, anger and terror twisting together in his chest.
Michael mounted beside him, hands shaking as he took hold of the saddle.
“Connor,” he said urgently, “if he’s innocent, ye must listen to me.”
Connor didn’t look at him as he swung onto his horse. “I’ll listen,” he growled, “but only after Eva’s safe.”
The gates flew open, and the group thundered out across the road, hooves striking sparks from stone. Wind tore at Connor’s cloak as the castle fell away behind them. His thoughts raced faster than the horses, each one circling back to Eva’s smile, her laugh, her stubborn courage.
He clenched his jaw, knuckles white around the reins.
I've already lost too much to Jack Welsh, whether by blood or by lies. If Eva has been harmed, there willnae be a reckonin’ deep enough to balance the scales.
Michael rode close, his face drawn tight with conflict. Connor could feel the boy’s turmoil like a storm at his side, loyalty pulling him in opposite directions. Yet Connor could not slow, could not soften, not now. Every beat of his heart screamed her name.
Connor rode into the village beside David, his jaw set as people paused in their tasks to stare. He reined in near the well and called out, his voice steady but edged with steel.
“Who saw aught this day when the lass went missin’?” he demanded, eyes sweeping the gathered faces.
A grey-haired farmer stepped forward, wiping his hands on his tunic as fear flickered across his features.
“Aye, me laird,” the man said, nodding nervously, “I saw three men, cloaks pulled low, headin’ west just after noon.”
A woman beside him crossed herself and added, “They rode hard, sir, like the hounds were after them.”
Another villager chimed in, voice trembling, “One had a scarred cheek, I ken that much, and they dinnae stop for aught.”
Connor thanked them curtly, his heart hammering as the direction settled heavy in his gut.
He urged his horse forward, David falling in close as they left the village behind.
“West, then,” Connor said grimly.
David nodded, scanning the ground. “Aye, and fast. By the sound of it they are nae goin' to McKay lands, though they dinnae hide their trail well.”
The wind whipped past as they broke into a gallop, hooves thundering over packed earth and stone.
They slowed at the edge of the woods, where Connor leaned low from the saddle.
“There,” he said sharply, pointing to churned mud and broken grass.
David dismounted and crouched, fingers brushing the ground. “Fresh tracks,” he confirmed, “four horses, shod heavy, headin’ straight into the trees.”
Connor’s breath came harsh as he swung down, leading his horse into the shadows.
The forest swallowed them whole. Connor pushed aside branches, eyes darting for any sign of torn cloth or dropped trinket.
“Eva!” he called once, then again, the name cracking despite his effort to stay calm.
David stayed close, murmuring, “We’ll find her, me laird.”
“The villagers said the men are nae headed to McKay lands, instead the men are goin’ west. Why would Jack do that? I cannae believe it is him. The maid must be mistaken,” Michael said as he walked beside Connor.
“Perhaps to make us believe that it is nae McKay men,” Connor said.
They followed the tracks deeper, but soon the ground turned rocky and hard, the marks fading. Connor cursed under his breath, striking a tree with his fist.
